Day of Reckoning
by Arcanelle
Summary: [HIATUS] Humanity's only hope lies in one of fifty humans imprisoned on Irk, but he may end up martyring himself before he has a chance to save Earth from its dark fate. The lines between friend and enemy are blurring... Who can he trust?
1. Red Skies

Author's Note: I can't remember how I thought of this… But I do remember that I was trying to think of a way to include Gretchen into a story, because I've always wanted to try and explore her character a little since I saw "Tak, the Hideous New Girl". I also wanted to do something that included a lot of Tak in it, since she's one of my favorite characters. A few days ago, I watched "Bestest Friends" and had some thought somewhere along the lines of "Keef MUST be in love with Zim or something." Then I started thinking about all those apocalyptic Zim-fics where Zim finally conquers Earth, and then something happened… And then I thought of something—and then I woke up, and wrote something on my LJ to remind myself of it. And then I started writing on some paper in math class. And here I am, turning it into a story. For anyone who doesn't know her by name, Gretchen is the girl who gave Dib a bunch of meat on Valentine's Day. She also gets electrocuted by Zim in "Bestest Friends".

Anyways, before you ask, this story won't have a lot of romance. There will be underlying Dib/Gretchen throughout the story, very subtle _implied _Dib/Tak, and brief one-sided Zim/Keef. It will be nothing you non-romantics can't stomach, I assure you.

Anyways, enjoy. :)

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**Chapter One: Red Skies**

A sickening stench that he had identified as a mixture of vomit, human sewage, and sweat permeated the air; but as unpleasant as the odor was, it was not what bothered him (he had been subjected to it for almost six months, though he was unaware of how long it had been at the time). The ship had begun to slow, as he could tell from the noise in the engine room, and he could feel the decrease in the artificially gravity. Zim was anticipating a landing sometime extremely soon, and he was greatly unnerved by the thought of landing defenseless—and prisoner—on an alien planet.

A thin, awkward looking girl stumbled through the horde of people, trying frantically to keep the clumpy, gray-brown gruel from spilling out of the bowl she carried. She mumbled a few apologies to people as she stepped over them (or in some cases, on them) before finally reaching her destination. She sat down next to him and handed him the bowl. "It's a gross, tasteless mess," she admitted dryly, "but you really need to eat something."

A quick, unintentional jab in the stomach from the elderly woman next to him who was being tended by her granddaughter reminded him just how desperate their situation was. "There are fifty people here," he reminded her, pushing the bowl back into her hands. "Give it to someone who needs it. Really, I'm not hungry." As if to purposefully defy him, his stomach let out a low rumble. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his middle, and more and more he was beginning to think that being beaten up by Gaz for taking a slice of her pizza was a luxury. Even the lunches at skool were starting to sound appetizing…

"You haven't eaten in two days," she argued softly, her voice raspy. She forced the bowl back into his hands and turned away, letting out a rapid series of moist coughs. Her once rosy skin had been morphed by illness into a translucent gray, and her eyes had long since glazed over. The dark purple circles around her eyes from lack of sleep were the only remaining source of color in her face. As horrible as she was now—both physically and emotionally—compared to how things were on Earth (though even then, she was hardly considered attractive), she faired among the more fortunate of the passengers. Most were ill, weak, malnourished, dehydrated—any number of things. So far they had already seen two deaths: a newborn without the proper medical care who died in her sleep three nights after birth, and an elderly man who suffered from a kidney failure. The second death—over a month prior—was the last time Zim personally set foot into their chamber.

"You have to keep your strength up," she told him, looking down at her hands. "You're the only one who understands what's going on. If you die…" She was unable to finish, but the desperation in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. If anything happened to him, everyone in the chamber—and possibly everyone on the Earth—could end up dead at the hands of these monsters. As if to erase any doubt from his mind about whether or not he would eat the food—if it could be called that—his stomach growled again in protest. He sighed, picking up the spoon and rapidly shoving the thick gray soup in his mouth, more because of the horrid taste than wanted to end his hunger.

The girl gazed up at the crowd, hugging her knees to her chest. "How long has it been?" she murmured. "A month? Four months? A year? Day and night are the same anymore. You fall asleep when and where you drop, regardless of the time of day. We've been in here so long, I probably couldn't draw the sky if you asked me to—or even recognize the pencil you gave me to draw it with." She let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on her folded arms. "How much longer, Dib?" she begged, her voice beginning to crack.

He swallowed, shuddering as the cold clumpy gruel slid down his throat. He desperately wished for water to wash the taste of charcoal and vomit from his mouth (either Zim had never tasted the disgusting slop or he simply didn't care), but they were only permitted to one small bottle each day; and Dib had already given his to Gaz, who despite losing much of her will and ferocity over the trip, never lost her ability to make anyone who crossed her suffer. He supposed there was little she could do at this point to further his—or anyone's—suffering, with the possible exception of stealing his clothes, and the chances of her doing _that_ were slim.

Bringing his attention back to the present, he leaned back against the metalloid wall behind him. "Soon…" he said at last. She turned her head so that half of her face was visible to him, and he could tell from the dejected look on her face that she didn't believe him. (Not that the concept of not being believed was anything new to Dib, he reminded himself.) He sighed, turning in place and placing a hand on the wall behind them. "On the other side of this wall is the engine," he explained. "It's cooling. Not a lot, but at the rate it's going…" He stopped, thinking. "At our current rate, we'll probably be landing in about an hour."

In truth, he had no idea how long it would take. For all he knew, it could take days, possibly a week or more. As she said, though, the days were running together, night no longer existed… Half an hour, six hours, a day… no one would know the difference.

She looked at him for a moment before straightening her legs and turning to face the metal wall herself, placing her own hand on it. She seemed to contemplate this idea for a moment.

He continued, "It's been slowing since yesterday." He gulped, preparing himself for the other half of the message. "I wouldn't let my spirits get too high about landing, though." He crinkled his eyebrows as the girl turned to face him. She didn't seem to understand. "We're landing on Zim's home planet. We're going to have to face hundreds—thousands—maybe even millions of aliens like Zim who see us as nothing more than a planet to be conquered. Slaves." She looked back to the wall, then out toward the crowd, then down towards the floor again. He took a deep breath. "The worst is far from over."

She smiled slightly, though it went unnoticed by him. She had not heard him speak with that much resolve since they left Earth. It felt soothing to have the old obsessive Dib back again. It almost felt like things were starting to return to normal, and if she just closed her eyes she would be back in the classroom, tuning in and out every now and then and catching Dib's accusations of Zim being an alien and Zim's declaration of being "a normal human pig-smelly!"

The door swished open—a sound they had not heard in a month—followed by a metallic click. Dib jumped to his feet, balling his fists in anticipation of some sort of struggle. With three more clicks of metal against metal, the Irken appeared in the doorway perched on four mechanical limbs. The wicked smirk he wore should have been enough to tell anyone of them that something was about to happen.

Had it been five months earlier, the humans might have gasped in terror and scrambled out of the diminutive alien's way, but by this time the Earthlings were broken in body and spirit, and few cared to do any more than look up at him with hollow, zombie-like eyes. It only went to show how weak and pathetic the humans were—no Irken would give up so easily. The Invader snarled, narrowing his magenta eyes and climbing over the humans. They were useless to him. He folded his arms across his chest authoritatively, sending a mental command to the mechanical legs. The four artificial limbs bend in obedience, bringing him down to the human's height.

"Zim," Dib said coldly. He glanced back at Gretchen, who scooted away as far as she could without having to go around someone.

"Dibstink," Zim seethed, curling his lips in disgust. "You reek of human waste."

"Next time you might want to put in bathrooms," he snapped.

"Silence!" Zim ordered. He twitched in impatience, locking a pair of laser-cuffs to Dib's wrists. "Despite your revolting odor, you will have to suffice. I am obliged to present a human to the Tallest, and if you expect to be any more than common house-slaves then I'll need to make you _humans_ appear… efficient."

Dib glanced around the room. Most of them actually were as Zim had for so long portrayed them: weak, pathetic, sniveling, filthy. Zim needed to present them in the best light possible, and so he needed to choose the best human available.

"You've certainly seen better days, _Dib_," Zim seethed, "but I have no choice but to use you. The rest of the humans aren't even remotely presentable."

"Maybe you should try taking better care of your prisoners, Zim," he said lowly. Zim, either not hearing or not caring, grabbed Dib by the wrist and tugged him through the sea of people.

Gretchen scrambled to her feet, watching him being pushed out the door. The two shared a brief worried look before the swish of the door separated them. The only sound Dib heard for the rest of their walk was the metallic clicking of Zim's four metallic legs against the cold metal floor.

This was only the second time he had ever passed through this hallway—at that time, and six months earlier when they had first been captured. He thought it odd that rather than the typical winding circular architecture and bright colors—particularly red, purple, and green—that were normally the make-up of Irken manufacturing, it instead held fluid lines and subtle arches in almost exclusively black and silver, though he had noticed sections in shades of blue. Asking Zim about it, however, would get him no definite answer—instead, he would probably have to listen to Zim rant and rave about humans, the superiority of Irken ships, how stupid and smelly he was, and then—of course—a long exclamation of "I am ZIM!"

Zim gave him a firm push, almost making him topple over as he stumbled through the threshold of the room. He heard the metallic clicking of Zim's robotic legs against the floor, and heard the swish of the door closing. The tiny room held no color but the silver of the walls, no real furniture—nothing but supplies. In fact, with the closer look he identified it as _food. _The fact that people were dying of starvation and malnutrition while Zim had more than enough food for himself and his robot to gorge themselves was just another reason to hate Zim—though after the past six months he didn't think that he had much more room for hating the alien.

Before he had time to comprehend what was happening, the laser-cuffs had been deactivated so that they were no more than tight, uncomfortable but unconnected metal bands around his wrists. Zim shoved a stack of heavy, rough brown rags into his arms. He blinked a few times, bringing himself out of his daze as he held the brown garment up by the sleeves. It hardly qualified as clothing, and in fact he couldn't help but think that it looked almost like a cloth sack with holes cut for arms and a head. The pants, which had fallen to the floor, hardly looked any better, nor did they look like they would be comfortable.

He glanced at the Irken, who was drumming his claws on his arm impatiently. "What are you waiting for, Earth monkey?" Zim snapped. "Change your clothes! I haven't got all day."

"You expect me to change with you in the room?" he asked angrily, raising his voice.

Zim glared harshly at him, a growl escaping his throat. "I'm not going to leave you alone to plan your escape!" he snapped. "Though at this point, I can assure you that all your efforts are hopelessly futile, and that you'll only be prolonging your inevitable _doom_," he sneered.

After a few minutes of silence, each retaining his own inert glare, Zim finally barked impatiently, "Well, are you going to change of your own free will, or do I have to _degrade_ myself to touching your filthy _human _flesh?"

Dib sighed in resignation. "Will you at least turn around?"

Zim studied him warily for a moment, and then turn around reluctantly. He heard Zim mumble something along the lines of "…never understand… human foolish concept of…. Who do they think they ARE!"

Dib sighed in exasperation. He wondered how long it would take before he was used to Zim again, or if he would even live long enough to need to worry about it.

---

Dib entered the room, tugging at the end of the heavy metal chain as it clanked against his laser-cuffs with each step, the rhythmic but solemn sound a reminder of his imprisonment. His eyes traveled up the walls, watching as they sloped inward, curving, until at last the large ceiling shaped into a dome, the circular room drawn together elaborately. Bright splashes of green, violet, and magenta colored the walls in what most humans would have described as a tacky fashion, fit for nothing beyond cartoons. Still, the intense colors somehow seemed to fit the planet.

Dib returned his gaze to the creatures in front of him, feeling himself being jerked to an abrupt halt. He stumbled forward, but managed not to loose his footing completely. His eyes widened when he realized the aliens in front of him towered over him by nearly a foot, and due to their proximity he had to crane his neck to get a good view of their faces.

They scowled—more so at _Zim _then him.

Zim bowed his head in respect for his leaders and hissed at Dib, "On your knees, Earth-scum!"

Normally, he would have snapped a witty comeback at Zim, and the two would have continued for hours arguing until they were so off-topic that neither of them had any idea why they were arguing—only that they _were_ arguing, and that they would suffer their deaths before let the other win.

But then, normally he was not on an enemy planet being held prisoner, expected to submit himself to their rule. He shot Zim a defiant stare, setting his shoulders back with his head lifted high, standing as straight as a board.

The red and purple clad leaders seem to take notice of this, and seemed—irritated? Not _angry_, just impatient. Dib couldn't help but find it strange.

Zim growled, kicking the back of Dib's legs. His knees buckled, and before he had time to react he was face down on the floor, like some ignorant peasant groveling for mercy from an unjust feudal lord.

"_You will bow_ _before your Tallest_," Zim hissed.

Dib pushed himself up, arms quivering, glowering as he tried to raise himself to his feet. "Like hell I will…" he sputtered under his breath. Zim put one foot on the back of Dib's head, applying force swiftly and pushing him back to the floor. Dib grimaced, hissing in pain as his nose hit the cold, hard metal.

"My Tallest," Zim began proudly, "I have captured fifty of the humans and returned with them for interrogation, testing, and slavery!"

Dib gritted his teeth, struggling against Zim's weight on the back of his neck. From his position, he could see little more than the floor. In fact, _all_ he could see was the floor.

Dib heard the voice of what he presumed to be one of the leaders tell him, "Look, Zim, we're really busy—"

"Their planet is in the middle of a civil war, and will likely plunge itself into a global dark age. They will be particularly susceptible to the Armada—"

"Look, Zim," the other leader interrupted, "as much as we would love to send the Armada to conquer Earth, we've kind of got a few… more important planets to conquer right now."

"If what you say about the civil war is true," the first one told him—it sounded like he was eating something, Dib noticed, but his words were still barely decipherable—, "then they're really not much of a threat."

"We'll make you a deal. How about we _enslave _the humans you've brought, and then when Earth destroys itself in their civil war we'll see if we can salvage the planet for anything useful," the other continued. "Hey, share the nachos!"

Dib couldn't help but notice that something seemed…_off_. Zim had always acted like the entire planet's existence hung on whether or not Zim conquered Earth. His leaders seemed like more than anything they just wanted Zim _gone_.

"We'll _give you_ full control over your slaves, other than all merchandising rights," the first told him—to Dib, it sounded more like pleaded. More like _Why are you still here?_

Zim seemed to contemplate this idea. "My Tallest!" he announced, breaking the silence. "I have accepted your offer! I will patrol these slaves, and when the planet collapses on itself and is captured, the name of Invader Zim will be universally famous!"

"You didn't even _do_ anything!" Dib cut in at last, managing to lift up his head enough to see Zim's face.

A look of pure malice spread across the Irken's face, and he kicked Dib in the back of the head as hard as he could manage. Dib hissed, feeling the jolt of pain run through his nose, still aching from its first unpleasant introduction to the floor's hard surface.

"Anyways, just how did you get fifty humans here with just your voot runner?" the first asked. Dib could hear him crunching on nachos in the background.

"You see, a group of Meekrob was—"

"Well, Zim, we really need to be going. It's only once every several years that we're actually on Irk, so we have to go…take care…of some things!" the second interjected. "Load your slaves on level six-hundred sixty-six in cells ten through fifteen with ten humans a cell. Register them, fill out the paper-work…just do all the stuff you need to do before we can sell them as slaves."

Dib felt himself be jerked to his feet, stumbling forward with the erratic clanking of the chain as he tried to keep up with Zim's quick movement. When they were out of earshot of the two Irken leaders and had rounded several corners, Zim yanked the chains taut and flung Dib against the wall, supporting himself on four mechanical legs. (Dib assumed that he had not used them earlier as a show of respect for his leaders, but here Zim sought to make himself appear superior and made use of this as an intimidation tactic.)

"If you _ever again_ have the audacity to humiliate _me_ in front of the Tallest, I will make sure that your last few days of life are so horribly unbearable that your demise will come as a relief to you," he seethed. "Do you understand?"

Dib narrowed his eyes, nodding. "Perfectly."

"Good. Now, _Dibstink_, you would do well to keep you mouth closed and to not speak to any non-human unless you are spoken to first." Zim pulled him back into motion, the steady clinking of the chains echoing through the endless halls lulling him into his own thoughts, set galaxies away.

How was he ever going to get out of this?

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Author's Note: I'm currently searching for a beta-reader, preferably someone who is competent at English spelling and grammatical structure and is not afraid to give occasion constructive criticism, tell me if I contradict myself, tell me if someone starts to get out of character, etc. I've gone over this myself at least three times already, and I still find a few mistakes. I'm not opposed to NOT having a beta, but having a second set of eyes look over it really helps, especially when it's someone who can be objective, as I know my writing is far from perfect.

According to my outline (which only covers the first five chapters, but I should expand on it a little more within the next few weeks), Tak and Keef are both scheduled to appear in the next chapter. I'm not sure when Gaz will appear, but I know she's going to have a part in chapter four. I haven't figured out whether or not she'll have any part in chapters two and three.

Reviews are highly appreciated, constructive criticism is more than welcome, and support makes me happy, which means I feel like writing and, in short, I update quicker.


	2. Judge Me Not

Author's Note: For anyone that doesn't know, I'm Toaster (underscore) Phantom on livejournal. (Click the homepage link on my profile to get to my journal.) I'll be adding in extras from time to time that won't appear in the story. I'll also have previews of each chapter before they come out.

And just so you don't think my math is wrong: fifty people were on the ship when Zim left. One was born, two died. 50 plus 1 minus 2 equals 49. 49 minus 1 (Dib) equals 48. Take 1 more away for Keef, whose perspective you're reading from for the first scene, and you get 47.

Also, a couple of you are asking question about the plot (will so-and-so appear, how did Zim choose who to bring, is such-and-such going to happen). I really can't answer any of those questions beforehand because I don't want to give away any of the plot. Any spoilers that I feel I _can_ give you will be on my LJ, and any semi-spoilers that I don't think give away too much of the plot line will be on my profile.

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**Chapter Two: Judge Me Not**

The hot parched air was difficult to breathe, and the oxygen level was noticeably lower than what he had been accustomed to on Earth. He felt the tug on the chain held by the undersized alien walking in front of him, stumbling forward. The rugged brown garments fit poorly, and his ankles and wrists had already begun to chafe from the tight fabric. He fidgeted, adjusting his shoulders—one of the few places the fabric hung too loosely. The clinking of chains sounded from behind him, jingling with the steps of the forty-seven people behind him.

Zim turned sharply, stopping on some sort of platform. He jerked at the chain, which Keef took as a sign to stand next to him. The rest of the party followed suit. Keef should have been fascinated by this—the sight of aliens rushing back and forth, the foreign machinery that lined the walls and streets hallways, the sounds of species he had never dreamed could exist should have thrilled him to no end. Instead of being overjoyed from the new sights and sounds, or even terrified by the thought of being light-years away from home, though, he simply felt crestfallen; but it was from neither captivity nor homesickness, nor even the poor conditions that this feeling originated.

"I guess Dib was right about you," he murmured, watching the lights around the platform flicker one at a time.

Zim placed one hand on a black pad. It lit up with a diffused red glow, sweeping across Zim's palm.

"If it's taken you the whole ride to Irk to figure out that I'm an alien, you're far stupider than I have given you credit for," Zim told him coldly.

Keef felt a sudden queasiness wash through him as the lights intensified; whirring sounds emitted from the wall. The humans fumbled in confusion, a few falling over each other.

"No," he said plainly. "I've known that for a while. I didn't really care. I meant that Dib was right about you being evil."

An elongated silence hovered around them. Only a faint clink of the chains and an occasional cough could be heard from the crowd. The lights dimmed and the whirring slowed, soon dying out altogether.

Keef strode in time behind Zim, feeling the fabric scratch at his ankles. Zim walked slower than before, seeming to contemplate something.

An Irken in solid red who Keef guessed was about five feet tall stepped forward, snapping a metalloid ring around his neck. Keef reached up to rub his neck, feeling the metal press against his collarbone. He touched the black band around the edge, feeling it squish inward and leaving an imprint of his fingers. The red light on the side blinked.

"That's to make sure you don't try to escape," the Irken said, deep voice echoing softly through the hall. _Escape…_

Lost in his own thoughts, he failed to notice that he had been pulled back into motion. Zim unchained him from the group and pushed him through a transparent red sheet of light that seemed to serve as a wall. The device around his neck beeped and flashed green.

Zim turned and stepped away to unlock the next human, his metallic legs clicking softly against the floor. He thrust Gaz into the cell, smirking as she stumbled forward. She spun back, growling and charging at him. She hit the wall of light, froze, and was flung backward. She tumbled to the ground, skidding across the floor, braced on her elbows. He could hear the floor screech painfully as her skin rubbed across the floor.

"The moment I get out of here, Zim, I'm going to tear your damn arms and legs off three inches at a time, and then I'm going to make every single fucking circuit in your stupid pak go haywire!"

"I'd like to see you try, _little Gaz_," he said mockingly, pushing the next human into the cell. Seven more followed.

"Don't you think it's a little hypocritical for you to call _me _little?" she hissed. He sent her a sharp glare and turned to walk to the next cell.

"I used to think Dib was wrong about you being evil, Zim," Keef said lowly, eyes downcast.

Zim turned to face him, narrowing his eyes. "For an Irken there is neither good nor evil, only traitors and loyalists; victors and vanquished." Keef swallowed hard, letting the thought set into his mind. In Zim's mind, he was the hero. His loyalty to his planet—_that_ was what he defined as 'good'. Keef and the others were just prisoners of war—a sacrifice that had to be made for the good of the empire.

Keef felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, a sudden faintness washing over him. He let himself fall back onto the floor.

…_neither good nor evil…_

How long had it been since he slept? He couldn't remember.

…_I've been stupid…_

The sounds in the background began to fade.

…_should've listened…_

Gaz was yelling at someone, but the words sounded almost foreign, and so far away.

…_might have been able to help…_

The cold of the floor was numbing.

…_wouldn't be here if…_

His mind clouded over, and he began to drift away.

---

She felt him thrust her into the cell, with no more or no less force than the last human. Her knees buckled from exhaustion and she tumbled to the floor. The ring around her neck beeped and flashed green to signify that she was, indeed, trapped within the walls of red light with no escape. It was an improvement on the conditions in the ship, as the lighting was much better and it was far roomier. The idea of slavery, however—of being on constant watch, of never having free will, of being at the mercy of whatever beasts owned them…. She shuddered. She did not want to think about it.

Dib was leaned against the back wall, eyes closed. She almost mistook his state for sleep, but he seemed unnerved, a deep scowl etched into his face, eyebrows forming a soft 'v'. He was deep in thought, she concluded, likely forming escape plans and running through them, only to realize that not a one of them could ever work. She would not doubt that he had been doing this for hours. She quietly sat down next to him.

He groaned, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, readjusting his glasses. "There has to be something…" he said under his breath.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, quivering slightly. "You'll…um…" she stammered slightly, looking across the cell at the other eight Earthlings. "You'll figure something out," she told him, with much more confidence than she felt. Still, if Dib could not save them, no one could. He was the single strand of hope in their hopeless situation. Every last one of them knew that.

He sighed, smiling halfheartedly. "But it's the _waiting_…." He lowered his voice, and somberly gazed across the cell. "Right now I—_all of us_—are powerless. Taking too long to come up with a plan means that people could be lost—dead, sold, miles away…. I want to make it out of here with as many people as possible. The people are weak, famished; and the Irken Empire will think nothing if a few humans die." He looked her in the eyes. "Never trust one of them. They're the enemy. Remember that, Gretchen."

She nodded solemnly.

The guard, who Gretchen recognized to be the one who had put the collars on them, slid a large vat of some type of slop through the red light. She crawled over to it, peering over the edge. It didn't appear much more edible than whatever it was that Zim had fed them, but it was food. The other eight captives swarmed around the tub, hungrily gobbling up as much as they could. Only Dib remained where he was, staring off into the distance grimly, deep in thought.

She bit her lip, tempted to try to get him to eat again, but decided against it, digging her hands into the strange green stew and drawing it to her mouth. She swallowed, shuddering from the cold, bitter taste left in her mouth. She tried to remember the taste of cheeseburgers, of bagels, of bologna, of snickerdoodles…. Anything but _this._ She sighed in defeat, digging her hands into the gruel once more.

---

The former soldier marched through the halls of the Irken Universal Building, her head held high as she boarded the platform along with several others of her race. She impatiently pressed her palm to the scanner, tapping her foot. A diffused glow emitted from the pad, and the hum of the machinery began. She hated the mass teleporters that littered every governmental structure in the empire. After years of flying, it seemed so sluggish just standing and waiting. They could have made quicker teleporters—everyone knew that. Of course, keeping them slow meant that there was more time to scan the entrants. In the past one hundred years, there had been more than fifty attempts on the lives of the Tallest. Some of the assassins had even been Irkens (defects, of course, or at least that was what the public had been told).

These scans were mostly a scare tactic, she concluded, and it worked surprisingly well. She had been on Irk for more the four years now, and not once had an assassin gotten through the security system.

"So, I hear there's a new shipment of slaves in," the burgundy eyed Irken beside her said casually, rocking back and forth on his heels.

The worst part of these mass teleporters, though, was being forced to make conversation with imbeciles.

His simple attire was a sign of status: he was a civilian, probably a middle-class twit who spent most of his time doing tedious tasks that were deemed too important to be handled by slaves, usually monitoring security or verifying documents, possibly even managing a shop or a fast food. He had likely never even been outside of their solar system.

"So I've heard," she hissed.

"From… uh, what planet was it?" he asked, antennae twitching as he racked his brain.

"Earth," she said coolly. "I've been there once before. The inhabitants are stupid, weak, filthy, worthless piles of flesh. The few that aren't stupid are as impudent as they come. A poor choice, unless you want something that does nothing but whine, eat, and sleep."

"My neighbor said that he saw them being transported here," he continued merrily. "He said they were _tall._"

She repressed a growl. The Empire was overflowing with idiots. Did they honestly think that height and intelligence and power were somehow linked? In her short experience, it seemed that the taller the humans were, the more ignorant they became. If only they _knew_….

"So I've heard," she grumbled. The lights dimmed and the whirring slowed, and she brushed past him onto the floor. The amethyst tile seemed to stretch forever in both directions, fading into the ruby tile of the rounded ceiling. Hurriedly she marched up to the guard, eyes narrowed.

"Can I help you?" he asked monotonously, not even bothering to make eye contact.

"I'm here to test a slave," she announced, annoyance biting at the edges of her voice. It was the slave level! Why _else_ would she be there?

"Any particular—"

Before he even finished, she was stalking along the cells. Vortian, Medici, Plebeian, and various other species filled the chambers. She was unconcerned with these. She had only one in mind, and she had no doubt that he was here. Zim would never allow_ him_ to stay on the planet.

At last she reached them, the undeniable stench of _human_ permeating into the receptors on her skin, the all too familiar odor registering in her pak. She touched one claw to the neural implant in her forehead, shaking away the sensation. She was not in the mood to deal with its… malfunctions.

"_You!_" a voice snarled. She turned her head slightly to see the plum-haired teenager less than an inch away from the protective beam, shaking in anger, lips curled and eyes abnormal wide. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she demanded.

His sister's yells were enough to draw him to his feet. The pale, thin human stood in the corner of the cell nearest his sister, eyes widened behind coke-bottle glasses at the figure standing in front of him. No sound came from his mouth, but the letters formed perfectly on his lips.

_Tak_.

"It's been a while, Dib," she stated, eyes narrowed and arms folded across her chest.

After six years, there stood the second Irken he had ever met, just as he remembered her, accent and all.

She reached through the crimson ray, leaving a long and narrow gap between her wrist and the floor. Her fingers curled around his collar, pressing into the soft foam-like substance. She pulled him toward the light, and for a moment he was almost sure it was going to zap him. Instead, the collar beeped and the light flashed green. He was now on the other side of the light field.

She tugged on the collar, dragging him behind her. The fact that she was hardly more than four feet tall in comparison with his more than five and a half made this awkward for both, and extremely uncomfortable for Dib.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, trying to keep in step behind her. She seemed rushed, even… unnerved? From what he remembered of her, she was generally composed and self-assured. It struck him as odd.

She stopped at the guard, who was checking the conditions of the Plebeians. She pushed Dib in front of her, scowling. "I'd like to sign it out for the day," she told him, more of a command than a request. He nodded, holding what looked to Dib like some sort of laser up to his collar. He pressed a button on the side and the collar's green light flashed and beeped again. He held a tablet with palm scanner on it. Tak pressed her hand to the pad, which lit up with the same diffused glow of the teleporter. When the light faded, she pushed Dib through the hall, not waiting to talk to the guard any further.

"What's going on?" Dib insisted coldly. She merely pushed him forward. Deciding that he was going to get nothing out of her unless she planned on telling him in the first place, he sighed and kept walking. At least this would mean getting out of that crowded cell and seeing a little more of the planet.

---

Every piece of the planet was artificial. There were no plants, no animals, no landscape—only glassy magenta structures stretching as far as the eye could see against the backdrop of a cloudless crimson sky. Irkens rushed back and forth, most of which were dressed much more simply than any of the Irkens he had seen before. Civilians, he concluded. Most of them had seemed to regard Tak with a level of respect.

He noticed that he was not the only non-Irken in the city, as many Irkens were trailed by slaves. Several he recognized from the files saved onto Tak's Spittle Runner—Vortians were the most common, as well as Aragonians, Hapzoids, and a species that appeared almost Elvin.

The current street was filled with shops. Some contained what he assumed were appliances of some sort, some held weapons, some sold food, and there were even a few clothing stores. It almost reminded him of Earth, in a strange sort of way. He could not help but feel a sudden homesickness welling inside of him.

Tak looked out the window on her side of the taxicab, drumming her claws on her arm. She seemed less anxious than she was earlier; now she merely appeared bored.

He touched his fingers to his temples, wincing. This damn headache! It was like his heart was pounding against his skull!

The cab swung left through a tunnel, stopping at a gate. The sign was in Irken, so Dib had no way of knowing where they were. Tak nodded, handing several coins he assumed were Irken currency to the driver. The driver smiled, chuckling to himself as he counted the coins. "Anytime you need a driver, Ma'am, feel free to look me up," he told her, saluting.

She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, climbing out of her door, boots clicking as she hit the metallic ground. She opened Dib's door, pulling him to the ground. His bare feet hit the ground, burning from the heat. He winced but walked alongside Tak with no complaint. She obviously had some ulterior motive for bringing him here, and knowing Tak, it in some way involved humiliating Zim.

The hum of the taxi faded into the background as it sped away.

"Identify yourself!" the gate's automated voice demanded.

"Tak," she announced. "Room three hundred seventy-two."

He shifted on his feet, picking one of them off of the searing metal ground. The heat was excruciating! He would do just about anything at the moment to have his shoes back.

The gate hummed mechanically and slid open, allowing the two of them to walk inside. Irkens and alien slaves crowded the courtyard, ranging from civilians to others dressed militarily as Tak was. She pushed past a few of them, dragging Dib by his wrist to the nearest teleporter. Unlike the ones at the Universal Building, these required no verification. Tak simply pushed a few buttons and the two were instantly transported into a hallway. Like most Irken architecture, the ceiling was high and tubular, decorated with complex and tightly winded circular structures in brilliant shades of green.

Tak stood in front of one of the doors and pressed what he at first thought was a doorbell. An emerald beam shone from a tiny light on the wall, sweeping over the Irken. The door swished open.

_It's another type of identification_, he thought to himself. The Irkens certainly valued their security. He followed Tak inside her chamber and the door closed behind them.

The indigo walls rose into a soft dome, a crystalline amethyst orb at the zenith shining with a pale luminosity. Sapphire crystals spiraled down the sides of the walls, glistening. The ceiling was lower than it had been outside, and his hair occasionally brushed against the ceiling.

Tak took her seat on the silver bench, smirking. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," she began. "My motives are my own, but this I will tell you now: _I'm going to help you._"

Dib's eyes widened, Tak's words slowly sinking in. She could not be serious, and yet it all seemed to make sense: her apprehension when in the Universal Building, her haste in getting away from the crowds, the fact that she sought _him_…. If she simply wanted a slave, she would have no reason to pretend to be on his side. Even saying those words was probably considered an act of treason on her planet, and she would never risk it meaninglessly.

_Tak hates Zim,_ he reminded himself. _This is revenge. _It made sense that she would want to help them. It would prove Zim's incompetence.It would be even worse then never conquering a planet at all, because it would mean that the escapees knew some of the inner workings of the empire and could steal technology. Because Earth was so secluded and undeveloped, it was an easy target. If the slaves returned to the planet, not only would they be informed with everything they needed to know to bring down the Armada, but they would know the exact coordinates of the planet. They would be able to sabotage the single most important building in the entire intergalactic Irken Empire. Zim would be deemed more than incompetent—he would probably be _executed_, from what Dib knew of the mercilessness of the empire.

"I will tell you what you need to know as you need to know it," she told him, "but in the meantime, don't do anything _stupid_."

Still, what if she betrayed him? What if she freed them, only to lead them into a trap? Zim would be put to death—or at least exiled—and Tak would be venerated as a hero.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked her, folding his arm across his chest and narrowing his eyes.

"You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you…" she hissed under her breath, hanging her head. The dim light glowed ethereally across her features. "Fine. Sit. But you must swear that as long as I am alive, you will never repeat a single word of what I am about to tell you."

He studied her for a moment, making his way to the bench with all the speed of molasses. Even as he sat next to her, a cold chill ran down his spine and every muscle in his body tensed. He touched his fingers to his forehead, cringing. His head was throbbing! The closer he was to Tak, the worse it seemed to get….

-----

Author's Note: I actually hadn't planned including Gaz until chapter three, but I started writing, and there she was! So, yeah. Cliffhanger. I had planned to write a little more, but I decided to leave it for the next chapter. I tried to put in a little foreshadowing, though. Anyone who guesses where I'm going with this gets virtual cookies. I should be getting some Valentine's Day-ish things out soon. I think at least one of them should be IZ.

Don't forget to review! Remember, I love constructive criticism! Don't hesitate to point out mistakes, whether grammatical, contraditions to canon, OOC-ness, contraditions to something I've said earlier in the story, etc. :)


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